


Nurse Me Back to Health

by psych3d3lics



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Did I Mention Fluff, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Harry Potter is a klutz, Healer Draco Malfoy, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Professor Harry Potter, Sickfic, lots of fluff, the friendship is strong in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psych3d3lics/pseuds/psych3d3lics
Summary: When Headmistress McGonagall offered him Madam Pomfrey’s old position he didn’t have much of a choice. Being a Healer was his plan, and this was the only path life was willing to offer him. It didn’t matter that Harry Potter was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Draco would never see him.That would have been true if Harry Potter wasn't the biggest klutz to ever walk the earth.~~~the one in which Draco is a healer, Harry is a professor, and they can't hate each other if their lives depended on it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 201
Collections: Drarry26





	Nurse Me Back to Health

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while procrastinating updating my other Drarry fic.  
> this was supposed to be a short little Drabble but then it really got away from me. so here you go I guess.

Draco Malfoy would have taken any other job. But no one else wanted him. He was a Death Eater, he wasn't the type of person you wanted healing your wounds. 

When Headmistress McGonagall offered him Madam Pomfrey’s old position he didn’t have much of a choice. Being a Healer was his plan, and this was the only path life was willing to offer him.

It didn’t matter that Harry Potter was the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Draco would never see him. They were in completely different parts of the building. Teachers rarely escorted injured students. Besides the awkward eye contact from across the great hall. Draco would never have to talk to Harry Potter.

That would have been true if Harry Potter wasn't the biggest klutz to ever walk the earth. Only two weeks into the year Potter was already bursting through the doors holding his bloody arm close to his side.

“Malfoy?” He questioned “could I have a little assistance?”

It was a ridiculous story, Draco had to hold in his snarky remarks as Potter explained his most recent class. Apparently Cornish Pixies had caused more havoc than the students were able to handle and a miscast offensive spell left Potter bleeding on the floor. 

“My wand was lost under the rubble and I don't trust my wandless healing spells.” He explained setting himself on the edge of one of the beds.

It only took a few drops of dittany and Harry’s arm was mostly mended. Draco had avoided his eyes the entire time, answering most questions in as little syllables as possible. The air was thick inside of the room and there were no other students to pull Draco away from his patient.

Harry Potter is a patient.

He had to remind himself that. He signed up for this job. He could avoid Potter all he wanted but when the guy was injured it was his duty to fix him up. 

The two had fallen into a slightly uncomfortable silence as Draco wrapped the bandages around Potter’s arm. He always knew Potter had been muscular but Draco’s slender form paled in comparison to the toned flesh he was handling.

He fastened the bandage around his wrist and moved to the other side of the room to grab a few bottles. He could feel Potter’s eyes on him as he crouched down to open the cabinet.

He crossed back towards the bed with several potions in hand. 

“Take this in the morning to avoid large scarring,” He handed him a small flask. “These for pain,” He tied three small bottles together with a string, the misty purple liquid swirling inside as he set it down on the bed. “And come back if you feel dizzy or feverish.” Draco stepped back. “The spell could have been any number of things so be sure you don't do any strenuous activity.”

“Got it.” Harry affirmed pushing himself off the bed with his uninjured hand. “Thank you for the help, Mister Malfoy.” He had whispered his name with the vague teasing tone Draco recognized too quickly.

“Wouldn't have had to patch you up if you had a better lesson plan, Professor Potter.” He bit back, a mischievous grin visible on the corners of his mouth.

Potter scoffed before pushing the door open and slipping out into the hallway. Draco could have imagined a worse first conversation between them and resigned back to his desk in contentment. Maybe Potter was manageable.

~~~

Draco wasn't one to engage in a lot of extracurricular entertainment. But he didn’t complain when he was dragged down to the quidditch field to watch the games and tend to any injuries the players sustained.

Draco was also particularly engaged in today's game as it was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. He couldn't say the teams were nearly as impressive as they were in his time but they seemed fairly matched. They were about halfway through the game when Potter called a foul on the slytherins.

Of course Potter had volunteered to be the referee, Draco had expected nothing less from the quidditch obsessed golden boy. (Golden man? He wasn't really a boy anymore, Draco brushed the thought from his head very quickly.) The Slytherin captain rushed over to Potter, white knuckles clenching his robes.

Draco couldn't hear their conversation all that clearly, he had taken seating on the opposite side of the field, ready to spring into action at the earliest signs of an injury. But with the brewing anger from the two captains Draco figured they wouldn't be up in the air for the next fifteen minutes. He leaned his head back against the boards to feel the warm sun on his pale skin. Letting his eyes flutter closed as he basked in the warmth.

He was torn from his peace when a spell was cast and Potter as stupid and reckless as ever had thrown himself directly in the middle of the crossfire. 

He sprang from his seat and rushed over to where the professor was sprawled on the ground. It looked to be no more than a particularly nasty immobilizing spell but Potter had been knocked out cold.

Several teachers rushed out onto the field and hoisted Potter up. Draco knew it was merely a precaution, Potter would likely be fine in an hour or two but he didn't disagree with the idea of taking him to the infirmary.

About two flights of stairs and three long corridors later Potter began to stir. He had tried to sit up in his haze of confusion but was quickly pushed back down by Draco’s hand.

“Ever the selfless type aren't you Potter?” Draco teased, walking alongside the stretcher.

“I did what anyone would have done” he coughed, the weakness in his voice minute but still noticeable.

“Not me, I’d let the kid get hit.”

“You're cruel” he laughed, trailing off into a rough pattern of wheezes.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” Draco pushed open the doors to allow the men to take Potter in.

“Im fine” He tried once again to get up but was manhandled into the bed quite firmly. “Really! I need to teach classes.”

“You need to rest.” he pulled the covers up onto Potter, waving away the other men. “I’ll come back in an hour, go to sleep.”

He pulled the curtains closed and picked up the novel he’d been reading before he was so rudely dragged from his office down to the quidditch pitch. He enjoyed reading, and he enjoyed his job, and he was beginning to think he might be enjoying talking to Potter.

As promised Draco went to check in on Potter an hour late and found him flipped onto his side fast asleep. Draco didn’t like to keep Patients any longer than strictly necessary but the look on Potter’s face was far too peaceful for Draco to disturb. So he closed the curtains back up and placed a detection ward, he’d come back when Potter was awake. He didn’t know why he did it, and he didn't have time to figure it out.

Potter slept 4 more hours and he quickly scrambled out when he awoke. Draco was barely able to squeeze in his regular ‘if you feel any worse come right back’ directions.

~~~

The Phoenix Flu was common in young wizarding kids, most got it when they were 4 or 5 and were immune for the rest of their life. But every year a bunch of muggle borns get hit with it. It’s the most hectic period for the infirmary. 

What Draco never expected to see was a certain brunette Professor stumble into his office looking downright awful. He had jumped up quickly to stop him from collapsing completely. 

Wrestling Potter into a bed was much harder than Draco would have anticipated, He had several inches on the professor but he had always been lean and nimble, he hardly compared to the stocky man that was putting his entire weight on Draco.

When he had finally laid Potter down in a bed he pressed his cold hand to his forehead. He was running a ridiculously high fever and Draco wondered how long he had been walking around feeling like absolute death. Knowing Potter probably way longer than was healthy.

Masochist.

He pressed a cold towel to his forehead as he tried to bring him back from his disoriented fever.

“You’ve got to drink this,” Draco pleaded, holding a bright orange concoction in his hand. “Come on, Harry.”

Potter pushed himself up and grabbed the glass from Draco’s hands. He lifted it to his lips and forced it down, handing it back to Draco before flopping back down and promptly passing out.

Draco checked up on the other patients before turning off the light and ascending to his own bed, glancing back towards Potter. His face was twisted in discomfort as he readjusted himself.

He was sweating and looked miserable but Draco couldn't push back the thought that he was kind of...

Cute?

He scrambled into his room quickly, he wouldn’t allow his thoughts to travel into that territory.

He needed sleep.

He awoke bright and early the next morning, like he did every morning. But this day he was particularly worried for his patients. All of them, that's what he was telling himself. Refusing to acknowledge how he kept an eye on the professor while he bounced between all the others.

When he finally began to stir Draco made his way over to him.

“Are you feeling better Potter?” Draco gathered the empty glasses on his bed stand and turned to dispose of them.

“Harry” was the first thing he said.

“What?” Draco stopped dead in his tracks, not daring to turn around.

“You called me Harry, where did that go?” he could hear the amusement in his voice as he pestered Draco.

“Well do you want me to call you Harry?” he turned around, leaning up against the wall, trying to hide his panic.

“I do.” Harry’s voice was suddenly absent of all mischief.

“Okay then,” Draco placed the glasses into the bin, making his way back to the side of Harry’s bed. “Are you feeling better Harry?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“I don't understand why you didn't get the Flu as a kid, all magical kids get it when they’re young.”

“I grew up with Muggles.” Harry leaned back in the bed.

“Really?” Draco honestly had never heard that before, he had just assumed any multitude of wizarding families would have been happy to take him in. “Well you were being positively stupid by waiting so long to come in.”

“How bad was I?” he hid behind his hands.

“I had to carry you to the bed, and you aren't that light.” he chuckled, handing Harry another concoction, Dark green in color, disgusting to taste. Harry gagged as he downed the glass.

Draco was called over by another patient and ended up wrapped into a mess of vomit and sniffles. He didn't get back to Harry until nearly half an hour later to find him once again passed out, he pulled his covers over him and closed the curtains. The amount of effort he put into that boy was ridiculous. But Draco couldn't make himself hate it.

The day carried on in a similar fashion, he would check in on Harry every couple hours, feed him an awful tasting potion, then tuck him into bed when he inevitably passed out.

He was grateful when he threw himself onto his bed that night, finally free from juggling multiple patients all with severe illnesses. Yet he would still say the day had been good.

~~~

Draco knew that Christmas was coming, but he was trying like hell to avoid the fact. He couldn't go home, his dad was in Azkaban and his mom was in France. And even if they were both at Malfoy Manor Draco still doubted they’d have ooey-gooey family time. So he threw himself into his work and tried desperately to forget about the upcoming holidays.

Except now he was sitting in the great hall poking at his food looking like a pouting toddler. He was uninterested in eating, he hated the decorations, the music was awful and he was completely distracted by the fact that Harry’s chair was completely empty.

It wasn't like Draco wanted him to be there, but it was weird that he wasn’t. Harry was the type that probably loved the holidays. Draco wasn’t worried, but he was definitely weirded out.

Now Draco was wandering the halls and he couldn't come up with a good explanation as to why. He just couldn't go back to the Infirmary. Not until he knew what the hell was up with Harry. So he just kept walking.

He found Harry hunched over the sink in the staff bathrooms, wincing as he reached his hand under the water. When Draco stepped closer he noticed a sizable gash on Harry’s palm.

“Merlin Harry what happened!” He rushed over and grabbed his wrist. The cut was deep and gushing a concerning amount of blood.

“I broke a glass,” Harry admitted “it was an accident, I think I was holding it too tight and it just burst and it cut me and-” he tensed as Draco ran his fingers over the wound. “It really hurts.”

Draco pulled out his wand and sealed the cut with a few quick enchantments.

“Is this why you weren't at the feast?”

“You noticed I was gone?” Harry stared up at him.

“You're very noticeable,” Draco muttered, only half aware of what he was saying as he cleaned the cut. Draco didn't notice the blush that completely covered Harry’s face.

“Are you staying here for the holidays?” Harry muttered.

“Yeah.” Draco finally released his hand when he was sure it was completely healed.

“Oh,” Harry rubbed his hand “Good, so am I.”

“Really?” Draco stared, “You're not going to visit the weasels?”

“The Weasleys” Harry corrected “And no, I'm not on great terms with Ginny after the breakup and I think Fred and George want me dead.” He laughed.

Draco was oddly comforted by the idea that he wasn't the only one who would spend the holidays in the castle, and he was even more comforted by the idea that the other person would be Harry. Draco knew what that meant, but he was dead set on ignoring it.

~~~

Draco wasn’t exactly sure how he got here, except that's a lie. He knows exactly how he got here. Christmas morning Harry had burst into his office asking him to go get drinks with him and Draco couldn’t say no. That is how he ended up at the counter of the Three Broomsticks drinking a glass of Fire whiskey and listening to Harry rattle on about whatever topic catches his attention.

Maybe it's the buzz of the alcohol or the warm atmosphere of the room, but Draco thinks that Harry looks ridiculously attractive. Not just in this light, but in every light, every room, every angle, everything. Draco thinks Harry is very pretty, and somehow he can't bring himself to hate the new feeling.

This was Harry-Bloody-Potter they were talking about. Harry-Bloody-Potter who had been a thorn in his side all of his school years. Harry-Bloody-Potter who never let him catch a break. Harry-Bloody-Potter who Draco was sitting across from laughing with. The situation was completely crazy.

But the alcohol had smoothed all of his rough edges, polishing away his tough-guy exterior. He leaned his chin into the palm of his hand as he stared at Harry’s eyes. He’d always loved the color green--it was Slytherin colors, of course--But something about the green of Harry’s eyes put all other greens to shame.

Harry had stopped talking, instead staring straight back at Draco.

He was too drunk to blush, too drunk to shy away from the eye contact. He didn't see any good reason to look away. How long they would have stayed like that Draco couldn't have known.

Because a clumsy drunk man chose that exact moment to trip over his own feet and spill an entire glass of Fire whiskey down the front of Harry’s shirt. Sticking firmly to his chest. Now Draco was blushing.

Harry spun around and began screaming a slew of colorful curses at the man. Truly, Draco was floored by the creative extent of the man’s language. Harry might have continued on for a while if not for a swift punch he received square on his jaw. Now, Draco definitely was not underestimating the strength of Harry’s fighting--he’d handled his biceps first hand-- but the other guy had a foot of height on Harry and Draco didn't think he wanted an all out brawl.

He grabbed Harry by the collar and dragged him out onto the streets. Now painfully aware of how his drenched shirt clung very nicely to the man’s toned chest.

Pull your head out of the gutter Draco.

He grasped Harry’s jaw firmly in his hand, tilting his head to assess the damage. His jaw was rapidly forming a nasty bruise that surrounded a small cut. Most likely from a wedding ring.

“Well you ain't dead,” Draco muttered, dropping his hand.

“I could’ve taken that guy!” Harry argued

“He was massive,” Draco chuckled, “You may be ripped but you're still a shrimp” he elbowed Harry playfully in the side.

“Take it back!” He tackled Draco to the ground, effectively sweeping him off his feet. He could feel the alcohol numbing his body. The bitter cold only accentuated by the snow. He wrestled Harry, trying to capture his wrist stopping the onslaught of playful fists on his chest.

He grasped them in his hands and flipped them over. Suspending himself over the brunet with his hand pinned above his head. He knew how compromising the position was, he could feel the blush tinting his cheeks. He was too drunk to make sound decisions though.

“Gotcha’” he laughed before pulling him up onto his feet. “We gotta get home”

Harry nodded, brushing the snow off his hair and trudging off towards the castle.

Draco didn't have a great recollection of his walk home, he knew Harry almost tripped twice, and actually exceeded in doing so once, Face planting into the snow. He remembered stumbling into the doors. He remembers climbing the stairs to his room. But he doesn't remember much after that. He can only hope his drunken state wasn’t embarrassing.

Worse comes to worse he’d just blackmail Harry to keep him quiet.

~~~

Draco didn’t like the forbidden forest. He’s always been afraid of it and his worst nightmares had only been confirmed in his visit during his 1st year. He did everything in his power to avoid the place. But when a bright glowing stag pounced through his office screaming things about Harry and being injured he hadn’t hesitated to follow the patronus out into the night.

Now he was jogging through the dense forest dodging every which way to keep up with the swift apparition leading the way. The adrenaline coursing through his body had been enough to push his fear to the back of his mind. But when he reached a clearing a whole new type of fear settled in.

Harry was sprawled out in the middle of the expanse, blood flowing from his torso, it didn't look magical, not one bit. That fact confused Draco almost to the point of freezing up. 

Almost, but not quite.

He ran across the clearing and crouched down next to Harry. His shirt had been ripped apart and his chest was bloody and battered. His fingers stumbled as he cast every healing spell he had under his tool belt. The cuts on his skin fading away into light pink scars.

Draco was panicking. He couldn't send a patronus to McGonagall, he’d never been able to produce one. He didn't know if there were any further injuries he couldn't see, and he had no idea what had even happened. The hairs on his neck stood straight up as he became abundantly aware of the darkness that enclosed the two. Harry’s face lit only by the moonlight.

Concluding that he couldn't do much else he levitated him in the air and carefully brought him back through the forest. The thick woods seemed suffocating and without the stag guiding him he was wracked with anxiety. 

He couldn't let himself fall apart, Harry needed him.

So he pushed on, weaving through trees. Ignoring the nagging pit in his stomach and trying his best to avert his eyes from the pale body hanging limp in his arms. He hated seeing Harry hurt, it was his job for god sakes, he shouldn't be bothered by blood. But something inside of him knew that his discomfort had nothing to do with the gore.

He didn't have the time for an existential crisis right now, the trees were gradually getting thinner and the faint lights of the castle were fading into view. He let himself breathe slow and steady as he climbed the hill.

His heart rate finally began to null as he pushed open the infirmary doors.

He was home.

He layed Harry down in a cot, grabbing an extra blanket from the next bed over, draping it loosely over his body. Harry had regained some color and looked to be sleeping quite soundly.

Harry was going to be alright. He knew that, but he couldn't make himself leave, couldn't take his eyes away from him.

He pulled a chair over and leaned his arms down onto the soft bedding, cradling his head in between. He was just being a good doctor, looking after a patient.

~~~

Draco woke up the next morning to the sun streaming through the windows. He bolted upright, Harry was awake already staring back at him expectantly.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” he sprung forward, grabbing Harry’s shoulders to steady himself. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Harry shrugged, “you looked so peaceful I didn't want to bother you.”

“What the hell happened?” he could feel his hands shaking

“I was trying to capture some fire pigeons in the woods but the centaurs got mad and i was chased away and then i ran into a-” he cut himself off. “It was just a freak accident. I'm okay now.”

“Freak accident?” Draco yelled “It was reckless behavior Harry!”

“Im fine,” he tried to reassure him.

“Do you know-” He dropped his hands. “Merlin Harry do you know how worried i was?” 

A tear fell down his cheek.

“I didn't know if i could save you.”

Harry pulled him into his arms and Draco completely broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest.

“Im sorry,” Harry whispered “I didn't mean to scare you.” he rubbed circles on Draco’s back. He had always despised crying, thought it made him look pathetic, but he was too broken to care. He had carried Harry’s limp body all the way through the forest. Draco gave himself a pass just this once.

“Don’t you ever die, ok?” he pushed himself up to meet Harry’s eyes.

“I pinky promise” he raised up his finger, grinning like a toddler.

“You’re so stupid” Draco mumbled interlocking their fingers.

~~~

Draco had become accustomed to Harry barging into his office at late hours in the day to drag him down to hogsmeade. He had accepted the company pretty easily, Draco had long passed the stage where he was denying his fondness for the professor. 

He didn't mind sitting across from him. Watching the way he practically jumped out of the barstool when he talked about his favorite students. He didn't mind the way he always seemed to know what to say, never minding that Draco was quiet by nature.

So what if he had a crush on Harry? Anyone with eyes knew that Harry was ridiculously attractive. And anyone with a brain knew that his personality was nothing short of sunshine and rainbows. Of course he fell for him. It would never go anywhere anyways so what use is there to freaking out about it.

He was remarkably content with his situation.

Draco didn’t understand how he managed to befriend him, didn't understand what about him was so interesting to Harry. He didn't understand it, maybe it was his self deprecating nature, or his inability to see himself as anything more than a death eater. But he truly could understand why Harry stuck around this long.

He didn't understand it. But he would fight like hell to hold onto whatever they had.

It was only slightly annoying that thoughts of the brunet filled his mind when he was unable to lull himself into unconsciousness. Draco laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had finally resigned himself to the idea of little to no sleep. Giving in to his daydreams.

His head was pounding with the remnants of a headache. He knew he was sick, the changing weather had always had awful affects on his immune system. But he hated the idea of actually getting anyone's help. He was the healer, he could take care of himself.

He pushed himself up with his elbows, straining his eyes to focus on the door. It had been left slightly ajar to allow him to see his patients. But he had sent his last one away that afternoon.

He had no excuses.

He forced himself out of bed and pulled on a ratty ACDC shirt. It fell just above the waistband of his joggers, exposing a thin line of his midriff. It was muggle clothing, things he’d picked up when he took refuge in the suburbs. Desperately attempting to escape the Daily Prophets prying eyes.

Though he’d never admit to it the clothes were rather comfortable and he’d kept them around for convenience. Never would he dare let people see him dressed so casually but seeing as it was 2AM he figured he could get away with it.

He stumbled down the stairs and tickled the pear to grant him access to the kitchens. Stepping through the portrait he was greeted by a small, kind looking house elf. The chipper servant reminded him of Dobby who he’d actually been quite fond of.

“Could I have a cup of tea please?” he muttered, keeping his voice low as to not further the throbbing pain tearing through his head.

The house elf scurried off in a frenzy, leaving Draco to set himself down in one of the tables. Cradling his head in his hands he wracked his mind for some potion he could have forgotten. Anything he could possibly make to sooth the debilitating pain.

The headache was truly only the beginning of his sickness, but this was how it always started. Any moment he would become lightheaded, then he would start coughing, and round everything out by passing out from exhaustion.

The cup of tea was set gingerly by his side, the house elf had likely noticed his distress and adjusted their actions to be more soft. The dim lighting and quiet atmosphere the kitchens lended to him made it a favorite destination for Draco. No one bothered him in the kitchens, at least not usually.

The portrait swung open and in came a familiar professor.

“Draco?” Harry stopped dead in his tracks. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks,” he laughed, his tone lacking his regular sarcasm.

“You know that's not what I meant. But you look all pale, and weak, and you kinda look like you're about to collapse.”

“I'm fine,” he stood up, being immediately hit with a wave of dizziness. He stumbled on his feet, bracing his hand against the wall.

“Merlin Draco,” Harry walked towards him, “are you sick?”

“I'm a healer Harry, I can handle a little cold.”

“You almost just fell over, my apologies if I don't really believe you.” Harry grabbed his arm as he led him back out into the hall. Draco skin was too pale, and his muscles were too weak, he didn't have the energy to fight back. And this was Harry, if he would be okay with anyone taking care of him, it would be Harry.

He was set gently down on his bed, still cradling the cup of tea. His stomach had become far too twisted for him to risk taking a sip, but he welcomed the warmth that seeping into his hands.

Harry picked the cup out of his hands and set it on the nightstand, leaning Draco down onto the bed with a form hand on his chest. He figured for the amount of times he had wrestled Harry into a cot he’d let him have this one time. Harry pulled the covers over him, flicking off the lamp.

“Goodnight Draco” he whispered, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

He exited the room before Draco even had time to react.

He laid in stunned silence, he could still feel the sensation of Harry's lips on his skin. Had it simply been a friendly form of affection? Draco really couldn't tell, it wasn't as if he had all that much experience in the subject.

None of his friends had ever been the touchy type, besides Pansy of course but her advances had always seemed lewd in some sense. Harry’s touches carried no such connotations, Draco thought back to every brush of Harry’s fingers on his arm. Every time he’d placed a hand on Draco’s back to guide him into a shop that had caught Harry’s eye.

Was he just an affectionate person?

Draco had to push his existential crisis to the side, Harry wanted him to go to sleep. And he was sick, and tired, and truly he wanted more than anything for his sickness to be over. So he closed his eyes and willed his mind to forget the kiss, forget the feeling of warmth that spread throughout his chest.

Just for that night, he willed himself to forget.

~~~

And it really was just that night, the very next morning he woke up in gut-wrenching pain, his insides apparently dead set on tearing themselves apart. And despite his miserable state, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the kiss, his chest constricting with the familiar sense of longing.

That feeling was something Draco could recognize, amongst all his confusion at least that had remained consistent. Draco was always longing for something more, stretching his arms out as far as he could, trying to reach, his fingers would brush upon it before he slipped back into the safe haven of longing. 

Harry would be no different.

So he wouldn't reach out, wouldn't strain his arms to grab onto any fragment of Harry. He would continue on just as he had been the entire year. He would not let his longing affect his friendship. 

He pushed himself out of bed. His leg felt weak and he stumbled as he stood, his knees buckling under the weight.

It was true that he didn't get patients everyday, but there was a good possibility that he might, and he wasn't going to let his sickness stop him from doing his job. That was why he had come back to this hell hole of a castle in the first place, to do his job.

He didn't have good memories attached to this place. The dark stone corridors held no sentimental value to him. He was only here because he had no other place to go.

Except that wasn’t entirely true either, he had been offered a position at st. Mungo’s just a week prior. The letter had been unexpected, and he had stared at it with more confusion that he would like to admit. They hadn't wanted him just a year ago. He presumed Hogwarts had built up his reputation somewhat, and he should be jumping at the opportunity to run away from here.

But the letter still lay unanswered in his desk drawer. He’s gotten it out to look at it a few times, he’d even pulled out a piece of parchment to give them an answer. But the words were lost to him.

His answer could wait, if they really wanted him they would wait.

Draco needed them to wait.

He didn't know yet.

He didn't have any special memories from his school years. But he had special memories now, with Harry. Had Harry not become his friend his answer would have been simple.

Yes.

Why would he want to stay here when st. Mungos wanted him. Why would he want to stay here when the walls only reminded him of every mistake he’d ever made. Why would he want to stay here?

Harry.

He wanted to stay because of Harry, and that was a terrifying thought.

~~~

Another week went by and the letter remained unanswered in the top drawer of his desk. The letter hadt told him to take his time to give them a response. He had time to think it over. But he didn't need to.

Harry was at Hogwarts. And Harry was all he had. So he wouldn't go.

Even if he could never have Harry the way he wanted him, even if he could never wake up next to him, never make him breakfast, never kiss him gently goodnight.

He still needed him as a friend.

So the letter was left unanswered.

It might have stayed that way forever.

But one brisk february morning changed everything. Draco and Harry were sitting out on the grass. The sun was just rising, casting tones of marigold across the castle grounds. Hints of the oncoming spring littered the fields in front of them. Flowers were just blooming, trees were growing back their leaves.

They sat in comfortable silence.

The air around them was just warm enough to warrant leaving their coats behind, but not quite warm enough for them to be uncomfortable. The snow had melted from the previous weeks of blizzards.

It was perfect.

They sat beside each other, gazing out across the fields. His hand was rested by his side. Harry’s hand only a few inches away. He could have reached out and taken it. But draco had sworn he would exhibit some form of self control. So he tore his mind away from the thought and back out onto the fields.

They didn't need words. They were perfectly content sitting in the calm company of each other. No expectation of conversation lulled them both into a trance. So much so that even when soft drops of rain patted down onto them they remained sitting on the ground next to each other.

And even as the rain picked up, as a drizzle turned to a stream turned to a downpour, neither of them moved.

The rain wasn't cold enough to be a bother, it wasn't warm enough to be uncomfortable. So he sat, ignoring the way his clothes cling tight to his skin.

It was a bright bolt of lighting and the loud crack of thunder that followed shortly after that shocked him out of his head.

Harry clung immediately to his side. Grasping his bicep as he pulled him to his feet. Running them both inside with panic he’d never seen from Harry before. Draco had seen his arm bloody and battered, watched him throw himself in front of a stunning spell, carried him unconscious through the ocean.

But Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, was running at a speed Draco could hardly comprehend. They had burst through the front doors in only a handful of seconds. Harry’s arm still clinging to his bicep.

“Didn't take you for the type to be scared of a little thunder storm” Draco laughed.

“Whatever,” Harry tore his arm away from him, jogging down the corridor in haste.

Draco became now abundantly aware of the absence of Harry by his side, of the way his arm shivered in the cold. He missed the feeling of Harry’s arm wrapped protectively in his.

He couldn't hold Harry at a distance anymore. He couldn't continue on like he was. He had gotten a small taste of what it would be like to be close to Harry. Now he was hooked.

~~~

As Draco stared down at the parchment he reassured himself that this was the only way. He couldn't be around Harry for much longer. He couldn't look into his eyes without thinking what they would look like fluttering open in the morning. Thinking about what his hair would look like splayed out across the pillow.

He climbed the steps of the owlery, attaching the letter to the legs of a scrawny barn owl. Maybe he picked that one because he had half a hope that it would collapse on its delivery.

He didn't really want to go to St. Mungos. But he didn't have another option.

He watched the owl fly out the window, stood there watching it until it became a small spec on the horizon.

He had informed Mcgongall of his resignation the very same morning. She had asked him if there was a specific reason his current job was unsatisfactory, she had a knowing look in her eye even when he assured her he was only leaving for the pay raise.

“The position will be open until the end of the school year,” she had said, “if you reconsider.”

Could she have known? There was no doubt Mcgongall had been a clever woman when he was taught by her. Had she seen the way Draco was running away? He could only hope he was being paranoid.

He cleared his mind as he descended the steps. That was a problem for another day. He had patients to attend to, this was still his job for a few more days, and he intended to do it right.

~~~

His possessions had always been small in numbers. He preferred quality over quantity. With only a few shrinking charms and a bit of spellwork he had managed to fit everything into one brown leather suitcase.

His room was barren, only his coat remained there, hung up on the door waiting for him. He was free to take off at any time.

He just had to tell Harry.

He knew it was reckless to leave it to the very last moment. But every time he’d opened his mouth to say something the words vanished on the tip of his tongue. He didn't want to ruin their last days together, so he kept his mouth shut. Telling Harry could wait.

As if the universe truly hated Draco at that very moment Harry burst through his bedroom doors, face flushed in anger.

“I can't believe you!” Harry screamed.

“Oh” Draco sighed

“Oh? That's all you have to say? I have to hear that you're leaving from flitwick and all you have to say is oh?” he stomped over to Draco.

“I was going to tell you, I really was,” Draco pleaded.

“Were you even going to ask my opinion? Did you even care what I had to say?” Harry swung his arms around dramatically in the air.

He knew he should have asked Harry, but he couldn't bear the sound of Harry telling him he didn't have a care in the world whether he moved to the other side of the world.

“Can you give me a good reason to stay?” Draco snapped, grabbing Harry’s wrists.

They stood staring at each other for several excruciatingly long seconds. Draco knew he had messed up, knew he should be leaving, knew that this wasn't the right decision.

All Harry needed to do was ask Draco to stay.

“No, Draco” Harry sighed, pulling his wrists away and stepping back “I can't give you a single goddamn reason.”

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind himself.

Draco stood stunned in the bland shell of what had been his room for the last several months. He felt the tears fall, felt them burning streaks across his face. Mother had always told him it was weak to cry. Draco couldn't have felt anymore weak in that situation, so what was a couple tears to put the cherry on top?

He was a ghost of the man that had lived in this room. A ghost of the man who had laughed by Harry’s side.

It was all gone now.

He shrugged on his coat. Picked up his suitcase. And apparated away.

He was all gone now.

~~~

He walked down the long platform as kings cross station, his ticket clasped tightly in his hand.

He could have apparated all the way to St. Mungos, but he was far too tired.

The suitcase felt heavy in his hand. His entire life packed away into a leather safe.

It was a little ironic.

St. Mungos had always been his goal. It was the place to be if you wanted to excel as a healer. But in this very moment, all he wanted to do was fall back into his bed at Hogwarts.

“Excuse me!” a voice sounded behind him “sorry, pardon me, very very sorry miss.” it sounded vaguely familiar. “Draco wait!”

He whipped his head around to see Harry running frantically down the platform, dodging muggles left and right. His hair was a windy mess, his glasses slightly askew, and his socks definitely did not match.

Harry leaped on him as soon as he reached Draco. Arms wrapping around his shoulders and lips pressed firmly to his.

Draco instinctively dropped his suitcase and sunk deep into the kiss, letting his arms wrap around his waist. He would have to tease Harry later about the fact that he had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach him. But in that moment the rest of the world faded away.

Draco pulled back slowly. His face only inches away from Harry’s, his hand still embracing him.

“Stay.” He breathed. “For me.”

“I don't know,” Draco laughed, “Maybe another kiss will persuade me.”

“You're an idiot.” Harry chuckled.

But he did get another kiss.

And he got another when they apparated back to Hogwarts.

And another when Harry had to go to his class.

And another when he went to sleep.

He had a feeling he would get a lot more kisses.

~~~

“I don't like this,” Draco squirmed next to Harry. 

“Don't be nervous, Mrs. Weaseley loves everyone.” he squeezed Draco’s hand in encouragement.

“I tried to kill you Harry!” he exclaimed “Several times!”

“That's in the past,” Harry laughed, pushing open the front door of The Burrow. Draco was bombarded by the warm scent of home cooked dinner.

The room was drenched in mismatched tones of brown and red. The couch was slightly disheveled and the wallpaper was peeling. In every sense Draco should have been repulsed. But the air inside the house was warm and welcoming, he rather liked it.

A short redheaded woman appeared from around the corner. She wiped her hands on her apron as she approached them.

She enveloped them both in the warmest hug Draco had ever been a part of.

“I can't believe you didn't come by for christmas!” Mrs. Weasley complained, finally releasing them from her hold.

“So sorry about that,” Harry scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh well, I’m just angry I didn't get to give you this!” she pulled a knitted sweater out from a pile of the chair. It was burgundy with a large golden H on the front. 

“Thank you so much!” Harry said, pulling the sweater over his head. It was slightly oversized, which Draco had learned was the way Harry liked his clothes.

“Oh and I made one for you too dear!” Mrs. Weasely turned her attention back to the pile on the chair. Sifting through it swiftly. “It was a little short notice, Harry only told us about you a month ago, oh Harry you really need to write more often, oh yes here it is!” 

She pulled out a similar knitted sweater from the pile. It was a deep sapphire blue with a silver D on the front. He took it into his hands, the yarn was soft in his fingers. His mother had never knitted him a sweater before.

“Oh do try it on! I hope it fits.”

He pulled it over his head. Draco had to admit it fit almost perfectly, for not seeing him in over 5 years Molly Weasely sure did make a well fitted sweater.

“Thank you!” he managed to push out, still overwhelmed by the gesture.

He was beginning to think spending time at the Burrow would be manageable.

Being with Harry was possible.

It still felt surreal.

But he was beginning to feel like this could be his normal, this could be his forever.

“Oh come on, we've got to get some food in you!” she grabbed them by the wrists. “You never do get enough food at that school!”

  
  



End file.
